


Prämpt

by hatethewretched



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: 50 prompts, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Prison, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Charles is a Professor, Drabble Collection, Erik is not a Happy Bunny, I'm Sorry, M/M, Magneto Being Creepy, NSFW, Professor Erik, Prompt Fic, Teacher Erik, Trick Or Treat Prompts Challenge, Wet Dream, kissy lips, professor erik is hot, punching erik is therapy, student!charles has a boy crush
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-30 03:43:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1013677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hatethewretched/pseuds/hatethewretched
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles has a crush on the substitute English professor at his school. 1/50 prompts, unlikely to tie in together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Kiss

Charles had been watching him from afar for weeks, he had been curious the first day but by this time it had blown into a full grown crush, crushing down on his shoulders like the weight of the world. The only was that the person in question was his substitute teacher, Erik Lehnsherr. Tall, gorgeous Erik, who's waist tapered in in a way that Charles had never believed possible, wide shoulders and strong arms hidden beneath his button up shirts.

Charles swallowed, thumb pressing to his glasses which he pushed up along the bridge of his nose. He felt hot and feverish in the small classroom, surrounded by other students in varying emotional stages from boredom to enrapture similar to his. The room was not ordinarily hot with the school located in London, England and the year surrounded by Winter but Charles' cheeks had been a deep pink since he had arrived in English class, hiding in the back of the classroom, sapphire eyes unwavering from Lehnsherr's frame as he turned on spot, chalk scrapping across the black board.

Winter break would be in a few days, he would be shifted from his boarding school and back to New York and the large and relatively empty Xavier mansion with the pretense of visiting his family; all of which would be too busy for the short and geeky Charles. He didn't mind, he was used to that it was just that....Erik was here, not in New York and Charles would prefer to sit and stare at that glorious arse of his rather than spend hours on an air plane for a tedious visit with Cain, Mister Marko and mum.

Charles was caught up in these thoughts enough that he did not catch the dismissive wave from the man he sat fantasizing about in class and, while blinking in to take in the chicken scratch on the board, he noticed that the head that usually blocked his way was gone and Erik stood with his back to him, wiping the chalk away. He's embarrassed to realize he's alone with the object of his affection and Charles does something that completely exposes just how much of a loser he is - he squeaks. Actually lets out a squeak of fear with the smallest hint of excitement. Could this be what he had been waiting for?

Surprised, Erik spins around and pins him with those beautiful grey eyes. Green? Blue? Charles can't tell and that's half the reason he's more intoxicating than liquor, which he's indulged in more since arriving into freedom. As much freedom as he gets in boarding school yet without his family around. "What are you still doing here?" Lehnsherr asked in those accented words that send a shiver shooting up Charles' spine.

"I was just..."

What on Earth is he going to say? Swallowing nervously, Charles grabbed his boots and notebook and shoved them into his messenger bag, standing and slinging it over his shoulder. "I-I...." 

Erik stands silently, waiting with arched eyebrows. His lips have curled up, a smirk taking over the previously straight and severe lips, the hint of teeth in it. "Yes, Mister Xavier?"

Oh my god. He knew his name! Emboldened, Charles moved forward to stand at the professors' desk and twisted the strap of his bag between his fingers, other hand pushing his glasses back up his nose. "I just wanted to say good bye. I'm going to be heading off to New York for holiday."

"Is that so? Have a good holiday." He turns away, fingers closing around the stack of paper on his desk top and he looks away, dismissing Charles for the second time. He doesn't leave though. 

Some part of Charles needs this. Over stepping boundaries that he had never once expected to even toe before, Charles moved past the desk and crowded Erik, who went rigid and shot him an angry and confused look.

Charles didn't care. He didn't let himself and instead he pushed ahead before he could lose his resolve and his lips covered Erik's, tip toeing to reach the taller man. His fingers fisting in Erik's shirt, heat shooting south and his eyes fluttered shut. 

This was his first kiss and one he wouldn't have changed for anything. His breath danced across Erik's lips as he pulled away a centimeter, speaking in a soft whisper that he had never expected to hear come from his normally awkward lips, making his words sound dirty despite what he said. "Have a good holiday, Professor." 

He pulled away, quickly leaving the classroom and Erik behind with wide eyes and the hint of color in his cheeks that he had never seen there before.


	2. Buried

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles buries his problems while trying to fix those of everyone around him and for the first time in a long time, he's angry.

Charles had believed he had long ago moved past Erik's betrayal and Raven falling along behind him. He had spent his whole life taking care others, never opening up to his own hardships - the abuse at the hands of his step father and step brother, his mother's alcoholism and his father's death - that he simply took the pain of being crippled and abandoned and bound it tightly up and put it in a box, which he proceeded to bury. No one truly knew who Charles Xavier was, what he had gone through in his life or what he felt. He had lost his family in Raven and his one true friend in Erik.

It was not until the first fight between the Brotherhood and the X-Men that Charles experienced a wave of anger, replacing the old remorse he had once felt. Anger that bubbled up in his throat like black bile, making him light headed, stomach clenching and his heart pounding against his ribs. Crippled, he was useless in a fight and with Erik's magnetism his chair had slammed into the wall, refusing to budge and the helmet deflected his telepathic efforts.

Blue eyes met grey as _Magneto_ bared down on him, cape fluttering behind him in the breeze that Janso's tornadoes created. "Erik-" His words were drowned out, Magneto's voice stronger than his, booming out over him as his mutant team looked on, those that were not engaged in battle and pain flickered through Charles' face.

"Are you going to beg?" Magneto sneered, fingers flexing; the arms of the chain began to curve and Charles quickly raised his arms from them, looking pale. Bending down in front of the wheel chair bound telepath, his voice lowered to something resembling kindness. "Charles, admit defeat."

Charles knew that he would not be able to reach Erik, to help him to calm his mind. To smooth the wrinkles of anger from him was not something that he could do anymore and in a way, Charles did not want to. He had been trying for so long and anger burned at him like fire, the sting of betrayal finally rearing its ugly head.

"I will _never_ , Erik." He wouldn't call him by his chosen name, that of Magneto. It was just another mask for the magnetism master to hide himself behind and Charles was not going to indulge him. "You took Raven from me...I thought you would do better but you attack the X-men? You attack me, you have my sister fight me?"

His cruelness was ceaseless.

"Charles." He sounded impatient and exasperated.

"No." It was a bold assertion. Every ounce of strength and bravado that Charles had was behind that single word and he drew his hand back, hitting Erik directly in the face, the one space visible around the colorful helmet. He fell backwards, surprise coloring his face and the crunch of footsteps reached them, Azazel had moved to Erik's side. " _No._ "

Wordlessly Erik took hold of Azazel's proffered hand and stood. "You will regret this, Charles." The words faded in a black cloud of smoke and Charles' chair rocked forward, wheels sliding along the uneven ground when the force holding it back ceased.

Charles regretted many things. The smarting pain in his right hand and the red that stained his knuckles was not something he thought he would put into that box and bury today.


	3. Agony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU! Prisoner!Charles. Mutants are discovered during Charles childhood and are rounded up and put in camps, himself included. 3/50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW? There's a lot of Blood. Deaths are mentioned, prison camps, abuse, suicidal tendencies too. Charles doesn't handle things well. Part 1 of ?.

He lays still, looking up at the cracked ceiling and remembers the taste of his favorite chocolate; bitter against his tongue, strong and oppressive. There isn't a hint of sweetness and he misses that, the dark little bricks that he and Raven once shared. It's a stupid thing to want, the telepath tells himself, trying and failing to summon anger to him. He is a wreck, brown hair sheered short, bruises whelming up against pale, translucent skin which hasn't seen the sun in weeks and he taste blood on his lips, vision blurred by the tears that threaten to over take him.

His life was never perfect, Charles rationalizes, even with the money and the mansion. His father died when he was a small boy, he had an abusive step father, step brother and an alcoholic and absent mother who turned a blind eye to the plight of her son. The best thing thing that had ever happened to him was Raven; she was a little girl when he found her, pretending to be his mother and once she had reverted to her natural state, blue, scaly skin and golden eyes they had become fast friends and before long he was manipulating the minds within the Xavier household to accept Raven as his sister. She was the best thing to happen to him, lighting up a world that had been otherwise dull and unhappy. She encouraged him, loved him and spent endless hours sitting by his feet while he wrote out long essays for school. They were brother and sister, an unbreakable bond between the two mutants. 

Or once he had believed that to be true. 

Raven was gone, fled in the face of hatred. The homo sapiens had discovered mutants and the backlash had been overwhelming, anger and fear rose up and squashed down any idea for peace between the two species. Camps had sprung up, prisons for the helpless and Raven had left the mansion when they came for them and he...he realizes now that he was a fool. Trying to plead with them, he had been administered an electric shock that had rendered him unconscious and then he awoke in the camp, surrounded by fellow mutants. A man by the name of Trask had created devices, dampening fields against their powers and the small chips are injected into the mutants, an ugly bump underneath their skin, covered by a purple bruising. Violence is common place; Charles knows he should have just let them fight it out but he tried to use his powers, tried to calm the anger and instead pain shot through his mind. A scream was ripped from him and the guards descended on him; pain without reason is the clearest marker to a mutant attempting to over ride the chip. 

Charles was thrown in a stone enclosure and left there. Days have past, surely. They don't feed him and his lips are dried and cracked, blood staining him. He's young and malnourished, ribs showing underneath the sickly pale and bruised flesh. His stomach grumbles and his fingers are stained with dirt, nails broken from where he had tried to dig under the door, wanting fresh air and desperate for something, anything. Even if it's just a glimpse of sunlight.

He cries the first few nights. Charles misses Raven desperately, he even misses Cain and Sharon. He would worry for them, like he does his lost sister, if they weren't human but they are and he knows that they won't end up in a camp like this; likely they will be detained for a period of time and then released, warned against keeping mutants.

The days mold together into one long, never ending bout and Charles wonders if they have forgotten about him, if he's to die surrounded by grimy walls, in the prison uniform that he was forced into when he arrived.

He's stopped crying.

Charles realizes this one day - or is it an hour? - as he lays on his back on the ground, clothes stained with his own filth, blood and sweat. Maybe he can't anymore. The stone building becomes suffocatingly hot during what he believes is day time, freezing at what must be night anymore and he spends much of his time choking on his thirst, what little hydration he might have escapes through his pores.

Charles hasn't known kindness since he felt Raven slipping from his embrace and he dreams of it one night. He's never had sex, he was too young when they came for him, too inexperienced and awkward - he had been told he was a geek numerous times - but he and Raven had once caught snatches of Cain boasting to his mates about his conquests and as a telepath the picture had been disturbingly clear to Charles. 

It isn't a woman he pictures but the strong hands of a man, a faceless figure who kisses him, fingers racking through his bristly brown hair, trails kisses as light as a butterflies touch against his eyes, nose, lips and neck before sucking against the flesh, leaving behind a new kind of bruise. Pleasure builds within him and Charles awakes panting, blue eyes wide and staring into the darkness around him.

It isn't long after the dream - he thinks - that he's finally removed from the cage. Charles' blinded by the mid afternoon light and cries out, which earns him a blow to the ribs. He's thrown in one of the buildings and blindly, he feels his way to a bunk and falls over the edge, slamming into the wood pallet. 

That night he eats. Feasts on a meager meal of moldy bread and some pasty sludge that he's told is beans. Charles' eyes don't adjust to the light and he keeps them closed, or squints from underneath lashes. He's too beaten down, energy sapped from him and legs weak to move himself and someone with a soft voice and quiet anger helps him to eat, before rolling him over and tossing a blanket around his shoulders as the chill of night descends. It scratches his skin but Charles doesn't care. He can't.

He thought he would be happy to be freed but there is something else at work. 

The conditions are terrible, the bread is in sad shape, bugs infest the rice that is served to them and the winter falls heavy and hard, coating the ground in a blanket of blinding white and they have to huddle together to not freeze and still some die, pneumonia claims others and Charles is squashed between two other prisoners when his mind turns to the dead bodies that had been removed that morning.

That could have been him. He wishes it was.

Something has broken inside of Charles Xavier: it tears at him like shrapnel, ripping through his mind, stamping on his heart and he wishes he could cry. That he could feel. He just is empty and there are no more half-hearted dreams trying to cling to any shred of humanity. 

He's a weak coward. He's in agony and he fumbles with his powers one day, trying to switch it off, to just empty those emotions from his mind and a scream is wrenched from him instead and the butt of a guards gun hits him. Dizziness floods his mind and blood trickles down the back of his neck before his knees hit the ground and there's nothing more. 

It doesn't matter how long he was out this time. Charles blinks and realizes that the air stinks of piss and shit, moldy hay and that he's face down on hard and damp earth. No. No...nonononono.

He's back in the cage. The stone cage, windowless with only a heavy door leading out and it's this that he slams himself against, clawing at like an animal; it's a desperation he hasn't feel since his first week in the camp and Charles screams, loud piercing cries. Agonized and full of sorrow.

Someone shouts at him to shut up but he keeps screaming, tears at the stone until his fingers bleed and his throat is horse, the cries coming out like coughs. 

He can't.

Won't

Charles slams his face into the stone and reels back, stumbling. Pain sears hot as the blood pouring from his nose and the cut in his forehead but he doesn't stop. No, Charles slams his face into the door a second time, gut wrenching sob leaving him, quieter than he means and he slides down the door, curling into a ball at the base of the stone. OhGodhelphim.

Why? Why did it have to happen? This was worse then any beating at the hands of a guard and Charles bites at his lip, worrying it until it bleeds and an idea, filthy and ugly worms itself out. Rearing it's ugly and blackened head, forcing Charles to face something he has refused during his years at the camp.

Death would be simpler.

The blood is sticky on his face, the pain a dull thud that he can't drown out but there is something refreshing in it, something exciting. Fuck, it makes him feel in ways he hasn't in a long time.

That's a problem. Charles doesn't want to feel.

He's looking at his wrists now, tongue slowly swiping along the blood on his lips, pulling the metallic taste back inside and then he brings his right hand to his mouth, teeth closing around the flesh of his wrist.

He bites down until pain bubbles in the pit of his stomach, sickeningly sweet like the red liquid that paints his tongue and which he swallows down, biting harder and harder and harder. He switches to his left wrist when the blood is flowing freely, slipping out of the corners of his mouth and down to the dirty ground underneath him.

Charles tears his flesh open, jerks and pulls his head back like a starving animal and in a way, that's exactly what he is. His innocence is gone, love, affection. He doesn't want to feel, to care. He's going to die, he knows this but Charles wants this one thing to belong to him.

Everything else has been taken from him, he wants to at least have this much control. His life is his and he wants to take it. Only when he is sure it is enough does Charles stop, falling back, arms spread out beside him and face thoroughly stained with red. 

There is something curling in his stomach, spreading through him as warm as the blood he ingested. Satisfaction.

Brilliant blue eyes grow heavy and Charles is slipping into darkness when the door is wrenched open - nono...off the hinges and it slams against the ground - and a resounding "Fuck!" fills the copper scented air.


	4. Trick or Treat?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles is pushed into going trick or treating and reflects on how he hates Halloween.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because of the Trick or Treat thing going around on tumblr. Bad flirting/writing and m/m kissing. ;)

~*~

Charles has tried continuously for the last two hours to tell Raven that he is very much too old to trick or treat and she stares up at him with pleading eyes and she clasps her hands together, quietly beseeching him.

He doesn’t know why she wants to go this year. Raven’s only sixteen but last year she had been insisting that she was too old, that it was for little kids and no matter how he pushed or coax, she had refused to budge.

At eighteen Charles believes he is very much too old to be trailing after groups of children and would prefer to stay indoors, reading his text books and finishing up a paper or two. But Raven gets what she wants and she wants to trick or treat. “We aren’t t-ping anyone’s home, you understand that, yes?”

"Yes." She grins and hurries upstairs and he expects she’s getting whatever terrible costume she’s picked out for him. When she had the time, he doesn’t know. Charles is the one that brings her back and forth from school and anywhere else she wants to go.

~*~

Several arguments later Charles was wearing a rather ridiculous police costume. The flimsy plastic badge pinned to the blue top read ‘hottie police’ with a little number underneath that he’s certain is too short for an actual badge number and the boots that came with are a shiny plastic material, pants stretched tight across his ass and the top two buttons left undone to give it slack.

"No." He repeats, scowling at Raven, who wears a classic nurses costume with a large medicine symbol on the apron.

"Yes and that’s final. Come on, Hank’s meeting us and we’ll be late if we don’t leave now."

Charles decides he hates Halloween as he follows her out of their home, pocketing the keys while his other hand holds the hat that came with the costume, a simple ‘hottie’ cap that is made of the same dark blue fabric and has a brim of plastic.

He really hates Halloween.

They walk for several feet before finding Hank near a lamppost, cheeks flushed underneath the dull yellow of the light. “Happy Halloween!” He says but his eyes are on Raven and Charles absently wonders whether it seems more like Christmas to him.

For his part, he is wearing a store bought doctors outfit completed by a white lab coat and a stethoscope. Couples, Charles thinks drily although he smiles a little. It isn’t their fault that he’s been single for God knows how long.

"Are we doing this or not?" Raven asks, pulling him from his thoughts and she raises her candy bucket which is in the shape of a rather comical looking needle. "Come on, the candy isn’t going to wait!"

~*~

Charles’ mind is on genetics as they go from house to house. He smiles at whoever opens the door, letting Raven speak for their little group and he accepts the offered candy without comment until they come across the neighborhood dentist who drops sugar free snacks and tooth floss in their buckets.

"He obviously is heartless." Raven mutters, looking at a pack of sugar free gummie bears before she drops them with disgust into Charles’ bucket who only gives her a look.

They climb the steps of the next house as they talk, taking in the relative lack of decorations except for a skeleton which is positioned on a chair that sits on the porch, one leg crossed over the other and his hands in his laps.

Music thumps from the house and there’s the sound of laughter inside, which strengthens when the door opens but Charles is looking at the still when Raven calls out, “Trick or treat!”

"Trick or treat," Charles mutters, tearing his eyes from the skeleton. When his eyes find the owner of the house, Charles blinks and then grins. The man is wearing a rather short blue dress and wears a ginger wig.

It would look ridiculous on anyone else but somehow this man makes it look good.

"Looks like a treat to me." The man in the dress says and Charles’ lips pull up in a grin when he realizes that he’s being stared at. Neither Raven nor Hank seem to notice this as they are busy looking at the candy that’s just been dumped into their bucket. "We’re having a party, would you like to come in?"

Raven raises her eyes to Charles and gives him a sly grin. “Love to.”

~*~

Raven and Hank disappeared the second they passed through the door. Charles found himself standing close to the other man who’s smile is like that of a shark, all rather sharp teeth as he holds out a strong looking hand. “Erik,”

"Charles." He reached out and fits his hand in Erik’s and gives a firm shake, realizing too late that his palms are sweaty and now the handsome man knows that too. He clears his throat and pulls his hand back.

"I haven’t been able to get out to do any trick or treating of my own," The hosts says as Charles looks around the parlor which is filled with people in varying styles of costume, dancing to music he can’t make out.

"No?" Charles says, raising his blue eyes back to the man’s grey-blue pair. "That’s a shame."

"Isn’t it? I was thinking I could give it a try in here though."

Charles frowns slightly and wonders if he misheard him over the thump of the music and the laughter that spills from the group. “What do you mean?”

"Like…knock, knock." Erik raises his hand and mimes knocking on a door and Charles quirks a brow.

"Who’s there?"

"Trick or treat." Unsure where this was going, Charles brushed his hair back from his forehead, tucking it in the cap he had put on earlier. "Trick or treat who?"

"Trick or treat you." Erik says and Charles opens his mouth to say something when the taller man leans in and crowds his space. He rests on hand on the wall behind Charles and their lips meet.

Erik kisses him slowly, tongue swiping against lips that are slightly parted and it’s only when Charles raises a hand to his arm that he moves back. Blinking, Charles says the first thing to come to mind. “That was a horrible…horrible pick up line.”

"It worked, didn’t it?"

Charles laughs, a little breathless as he leans up to kiss Erik again and he misses seeing Raven across the room, giving a fist pump of success before she pulls an unwilling Hank to the makeshift dance floor.

Maybe he doesn’t hate Halloween after all.


End file.
